My Name Is A Prelude to 'A Future Imperfect'
by Naitch03
Summary: A series of one-shots detailing the first week back of the group, culminating in a reunion where they ask the question: "What do we tell Oliver?" The first of two bridge stories between 'Past is Prologue' and 'A Future Imperfect'.
1. My Name Is Malcolm Merlyn

**NOTE: I have put Past is Prologue up on Inkitt and entered it into the Fandom contest. This represents the most polished version of that story, so please head over there to vote for it- and re-read it while you're there!**

 **Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters in this story are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 _ **My name is Malcolm Merlyn**_

 _ **For twenty years, I've had one goal- to avenge my wife's murder by destroying the Glades.**_

 _ **But now that I know the true cost of my revenge, I've formed a new plan.**_

 _ **To save my city, to protect my children, and to protect my best friend's son, I can't be the assassin I was trained to be.**_

 _ **I must become someone else… I must become something else….**_

They returned on a Friday, which proved fortuitous for Malcolm. For if he wanted to put his plans in motion, he would need a little time. As it was, Moira had called him a few hours after they had come back to set up a meeting for everyone in one week's time.

It would be time enough.

He spent the weekend gathering intelligence, calling in contacts, setting up meetings for the coming weeks. He had had a few days on the Watchtower to start formulating new ideas, creating new plans. Now, he just needed to contact the appropriate people. That was why he found himself just outside the old Pabst Street station, just after midnight on Monday morning. He wasn't there as Malcolm Merlyn- he was dressed as Al Sa-hir- but he did pause at the spot where his wife had bled out. Long ago he had sworn to avenge her death.

Now he knew he should have honored her life.

Silently he made his way past the barricaded entrance to the old subway station, then cautiously made his way down the stairs. He hadn't got a clear enough view of what kind of defenses his target would have erected from the memories, so he worked his way down cautiously, scanning for booby traps. As he finally arrived at the platform, he was pleased to see the old train parked at the far end.

Inside the old train, Joseph Falk was organizing the information he had gathered about those who had failed his wife. These were the people that had killed her in a senseless gang shooing; and those who had failed to get justice for her after her death. He sat back wearily in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Soon, they would know justice…

"Joseph Falk."

The former train man yelled in surprise, jumping up out of his seat and turning to face a vision from a nightmare- a figure, clothed in black, his face obscured by a black hood and mask. And in his hands was a bow and arrow, pointed right at him. In a panic, Joseph lunged for his gun-

Which was swiftly knocked away by an arrow.

"You'd do well just to listen, Mr. Falk." The hooded man said. Falk backed up, his hands raised.

"Who are you?" Falk asked, scared out of his wits.

"Someone like you." Merlyn replied. "Someone who is seeking justice. But you won't find it like this."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?!" Falk demanded. "My wife is dead, and they won't even prosecute the people who did it!"

"Justice will find them, I assure you." Merlyn promised. "But you have a different fate, Mr. Falk. My employer desires your services."

Falk looked back at him in confusion. "I… I don't understand."

"My employer is like you as well." Malcolm lowered his bow, placing the arrow back in his quiver. His hand moved to his jacket pocket and withdrew a small card that he placed on the table next to him. "On that card you will find the information you need. My employer expects you to be there tomorrow. If you aren't, then I will be back. And I won't be anywhere near as…pleasant." With that, Malcolm faded back into the shadows, leaving Falk alone again.

* * *

 **TUESDAY**

Early Tuesday afternoon, Ted Gaynor was seated outside of Malcolm Merlyn's office. He had been surprised when Blackhawk got the call to send someone over for a potential job; Ted could only guess Mr. Merlyn had a heavy roller coming to town that he wanted protected. 'That's why I served three tours in the 'Stan,' he thought bitterly, 'to babysit rich pukes.'

"Mr. Gaynor?" the former solider looked up at the elderly woman seated behind the desk. "Mr. Merlyn will see you now." She said as she rose. He stood too and followed her to the door, and was soon ushered into the very impressive looking office.

"Mr. Gaynor." Malcolm said pleasantly as he rose from his desk.

"Mr. Merlyn." Ted replied in kind. The two men shook hands. "What can Blackhawk Security Services do for you today?" he asked, taking the seat that Malcolm offered.

Malcolm sat back down behind his desk. "To put it bluntly, I've recently learned that my security in this building is terrible, and I'm looking to hire a new, outside company to help secure the premises." He stated. "Your company was at the top of the list."

Ted blinked in surprise. "What kind of services are you looking for? Security guards, escorts…"

"I'm looking for highly trained people that will be able to secure the vast amounts of sensitive information we have stored here. I'm looking for people to act as security guards here in the building, and at our off-site storage facility. And I'm looking for people who would be able to protect potential clients when they travel into the city." He pulled a folder from his desk drawer and slid it to Ted. "Quite simply, I'm looking to make Blackhawk Security Services the primary security firm for Merlyn Global Group. In that folder are all the figures that I've worked out- yearly salaries, potential bonuses, etcetera. I'm also willing to pick up the costs for your healthcare and retirement benefits. "

Ted looked in the folder, and it was all he could do not to whistle. These were some VERY generous compensation packages- a hell of a lot more than they were making guarding spoiled rich brats.

"These are some very generous numbers." He said cautiously.

"I believe in looking out for veterans." Malcolm replied smoothly. They spent the next several minutes talking over figures and job details. All too soon Malcolm looked up as the door opened and Gloria came in. "I'm sorry, I have a client that I must see today. Tell you what, why don't you take that back to your board at Blackhawk and talk it over with them? If they have any questions or concerns, they can contact me directly- I left my cell phone number in the file."

"I don't see why they would say no." Ted said, taking his cue and rising from his seat. "When would you like us to start?"

"As soon as possible." Malcolm replied, standing and shaking Ted's hand. "I look forward to working with you."

"And I you, sir." Ted said, turning and walking back out of the office with an extra spring in his step. This was a hell of a lot better a way to get rich than knocking over armored cars!

As Ted Gaynor walked out of the office, Joseph Falk walked in. Merlyn smiled at the man, then nodded to his executive assistant. "Thank you, Gloria. I'd like to not be disturbed for the next hour."

"Of course, Mr. Merlyn." She said, closing the door.

Falk looked at Malcolm warily. "I'm not sure why you need to hire a security firm," he began, "You seem to have that well in hand."

Malcolm smiled coldly. "Yes, my 'associate'." He said. "Not exactly the kind of security a major global company needs."

"No, he works better behind the scenes, I guess." Falk said. "Finding things he shouldn't be able to find."

"Yes, he's quite gifted at that. It's almost like magic." Malcolm replied with a smirk.

Falk let out a breath. "Why don't we cut the bull, Mr. Merlyn. Why am I here?" he asked testily.

Malcolm's smirk intensified as he pulled another fill off of his desk and opened it up. "Joseph Falk," he began, reading the bio, "former computer technician with the Starling City Department of Transportation. You had a wife, Emma. She was killed when some gangbangers shot up a bodega she happened to be in."

"So you know who I am, so what?" Falk demanded.

"Yes, I know who you are. But you don't know who I am." Malcolm shot back. "My wife, Rebecca; she dedicated her life to making the lives of the people in the Glades better. She worked as a doctor at a free clinic she founded. Then one night she left the clinic for home, but she never made it. She was killed by a gangbanger. Not for money or her jewelry, but because some punk wanted to pass his gang initiation, and he needed to kill someone. She called out for help for hours, but no one came to help her. She even called me." He laughed bitterly. "I thought she was calling me for some innocuous reason, so I turned my phone off. I still have that message saved, Mr. Falk. I still listen to it on occasion, I listen to my wife bleed out in the street as no one would help her."

"So you know why I want to do what I'm planning!" Falk said desperately. "The Glades is diseased- by the gangbangers, by the slumlords, by the DA's who won't prosecute because it's too difficult! They need to be punished!"

"I used to think the same thing as you." Malcolm admitted. "I had my own plan for the Glades. But then I saw what the cost would be, and I realized it would be too high." He stepped around his desk and led Falk to a table in the middle of the room. "We can punish the guilty till the cows come home, but new guilty will just take their place. You are right, the Glades has a disease- but we can't hope to save this city by treating the symptoms, we have to treat the disease itself."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Falk asked, curious despite himself.

Malcolm touched the smart table, bringing the map of the city to life. "The people of the Glades are crippled by a lack of jobs, a lack of opportunities; a lack of HOPE. And they are, for the most part, trapped in the Glades. There are good jobs to be had, and qualified people to have them, but if they can't get out of the Glades TO the jobs, then those jobs are worthless to the city. Sure, people will fill them- but people from outside of Starling. So what we need is a cheap, efficient public transportation system to carry the people of Starling to the jobs they need." He touched the table, highlighting the old subway route.

"You want to bring back the subway." Falk shook his head. "I get what you're trying to do, but it won't work. The subway only ran through and around the Glades- city leaders vetoed any plans of expansion into downtown or the outlying areas. They didn't want THOSE PEOPLE invading their areas." He sneered.

"I know. I was one of the people that worked against any expansion plans." Malcolm admitted. "And I was a leading voice in shutting it down. But I was wrong, then." He touched the table again, highlighting new areas. Falk's eyes widened. "In two days I'm going to the mayor with this proposal. I want to make this city great again, Mr. Falk. And I want your help in doing it."

"My help with what, exactly?" he asked cautiously.

"You have a talent for research; you have intimate knowledge of the train system as it is now, and you have a talent for computers that is second only to a colleague of mine- and she's busy elsewhere. I want you to head this project up for me, Mr. Falk. And when it's finished, I want you to head the DOT." He looked Falk in the eyes. "We have a chance here, Mr. Falk- to not be the kind of men our wives would be horrified by, but to be the kind of men they would be proud of. So tell me, Mr. Falk," Malcolm asked with a steely voice, "Are you brave enough to accept my offer, to fight for a better tomorrow?"

The two men spent the next hour talking, working out and fine tuning the pitch to the Mayor that Malcolm would give on Thursday. During that hour, despite the implied threat to his life if he didn't cooperate, Joseph Falk began to get genuinely excited at the prospect of the plan. 'This is something Emma would love.' He thought to himself.

"So you'll get the information to me by 9 AM Thursday." Malcolm said, leading the other man to the door. "We'll have an hour to review the data before the Mayor and his people arrive."

"That sounds fine, Mr. Merlyn." Falk said.

Malcolm held out his hand. "Please, call me Malcolm."

Falk took the proffered hand. "Joseph." He replied. They shook.

"Then until Thursday." Malcolm smiled at the man as he left the office, but his smile widened as Tommy appeared at the door. "Tommy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tommy smiled warily at his father. "Actually, I'm here to talk to you about a job."

* * *

 **Wednesday**

The moment Felicity returned, she decided it might be a good idea to start getting into shape. After all, if Oliver did ask her to join his mission this time around, she would feel much better if she wasn't so damn helpless all the time. Oh, she had no illusions about putting on a hood and shooting arrows into people- but at least she could be slightly healthier than she was before.

That's what led her to attempt to follow along with the workout DVD she had picked up the other day. And she was sure that, if she kept to it, she would be able to follow along with the whole program.

But for now, five sit-ups were good enough.

Cheering her small victory, she groaned as she clambered to her feet. She grabbed her water bottle and chugged- then nearly spit it up when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bottle down, she turned and opened the door without thinking-

And found herself staring at Malcolm Merlyn.

"You're not here to kill me, are you? Because if you are, I really wish you would have gotten here like twenty minutes ago."

"I'm not here to harm you, Miss Smoak." Malcolm assured her. "I made my daughter a promise, and I intend to keep it." A beat. "May I come in?" he asked.

"Oh!" Felicity exclaimed, moving out of the way so that Malcolm could enter. He looked around the small townhome as Felicity closed the door, muttering to herself.

"You have a lovely home." Malcolm offered, pausing at the poster of Errol Flynn's Robin Hood hanging on the wall. He gave her an amused look.

"Don't look at me like that; I've had it since college." Felicity said defensively.

Malcolm chuckled. "Of course."

"So, what can I do for you?" she asked. "I'm assuming you didn't just stop by to chit-chat."

"You'd be right." Malcolm said. "I need your help finding someone." He slid a bag off of his shoulder and reached into it, withdrawing a sleek new laptop. "I know you haven't exactly set up for that yet, so I took the liberty of acquiring a few programs I think you'd need and loaded them onto this computer." He handed it to Felicity, who took it rapturously.

"Oooh, baby." She gently set the laptop down on her coffee table and opened the lid to boot it up. "Who are you looking for?" she asked as she explored the computer.

"A man named Daniel Brickwell." Malcolm replied.

"And why do you want to find him?" Felicity asked, seemingly casually.

"Because he killed my wife."

Felicity looked up at the assassin sharply. "I'm betting you have people who could find him for you." She said after a moment. "Why me?"

"Because I believe you can find him faster." Malcom replied honestly.

"I won't find someone just so you can kill him." Felicity said sternly. "And I don't care what you threaten me with. I won't do it."

"I don't want to kill him." Malcolm denied, then sighed at the look she gave him. "Okay, I would love to kill him." He admitted, taking a seat across from her. "But I meant what I said before. I made Mia a promise, and I intend to keep it. I don't want you to find him just so I can kill him; I want you to find him so I can turn him over to the police. Alive." He clarified. "I may take a few liberties in capturing him, but I won't kill him, I swear."

Felicity considered the man for a few minutes. "Why now? I would have thought you would have gotten this guy years ago…."

Malcolm sighed. "After Rebecca was killed, a friend who had a contact on the force kept me apprised of the investigation. He told me they had the suspect, and gave me the file on him. He was some punk, who probably had killed people- just not my wife. But I didn't know that at the time. I acted impulsively- I bought a gun, and confronted the guy in an alley outside a bar in the Glades."

"You killed him." Felicity said softly.

Malcolm chuckled humorlessly. "I almost didn't. He actually gave me a pretty good thrashing, but he just left my lying there on the ground… and walked away. And I was so angry, I grabbed the gun I had dropped and shot him. That was the night I left Starling. That was when I made my way to Nanda Parbat." He looked Felicity in the eye. "But on the Watchtower, Mia gave me a file- the file on Daniel Brickwell. He murdered my wife as part of a gang initiation." He shook his head. "Every choice I've made since my wife died was based on a fallacy. So now I need to start making new choices- for Tommy, and for Thea. But I can't truly begin until that man is locked away for the rest of his life."

"What about evidence—"

"Brickwell used the same gun in every murder he has committed. And the few times he's been arrested, he's been able to secret his gun away so it couldn't be tested for ballistics. I turn him in with that gun, he goes away- not just for my wife's murder, but for others as well. The question now is; will you help me?"

* * *

Later that day Malcolm was sitting in his office with Tommy, going over his urban renewal plan when Felicity called.

"Yes?" he answered, then listened intensely. "Thank you." He said after a few moments, then hung up. Tommy looked at him curiously, and he smiled disarmingly. "Just another piece of business." He assured his son. "But let's get back to this…"

* * *

Later that night, Malcolm moved to the wall of his penthouse office atop the Merlyn Global building and slid aside a small painting. Placing his thumb on the fingerprint scanner, the computer beeped its approval and the hidden door slid aside. He walked into his other work area, a cold, impersonal space filled with weapons of all kinds- swords, knives, and of course, his bow and an assortment of arrows. He stood before the mannequin that held his League of Assassin's uniform, contemplating it for a moment before turning away. He headed to one of the work tables that held a small case. Opening the case, he smirked before reaching in and withdrawing its contents.

Daniel Brickwell, leader of the Orchid Bay Butchers, was smiling as he left the dive in the bad part of the Glades later that night. He counted the money he had just won in poker with satisfaction, and was placing it in his jacket pocket when he froze. Over twenty years of living the criminal life had given him the sixth sense to know when someone was behind him, and as he slipped the money into his pocket, his hand shifted over to his nickel-plated .45.

"Daniel Brickwell…"

Brick spun, drawing his gun- but it was immediately knocked out of his hand by… an arrow? His confusion turned to rage as two more arrows struck him- one in the arm and one in the knee, sending him down to the trash-strewn street.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Brick shouted, yanking the arrow out of his arm and throwing it away he looked up to see the strangest thing he had ever seen- a man dressed in green leather pants, a green leather jacket, and whose face was hidden behind a green hood. "What the hell…"

"YOU HAVE FAILED THIS CITY!" the archer roared as he belted him in the face with his bow.

When Brick woke up, he found he was no longer laying on the street. Now, he was laying on the roof of a building- and judging from the pain in his body, the whack job in the hood must have worked him over after knocking him out.

"Good, you're awake." The archer said, his voice distorted electronically. "I'd hate for you to miss what happens next."

Brick spit out a mouthful of blood. "If you think I'm scared of you, you got another thing coming." He said angrily.

"Oh, no. This isn't the time for fear." The Hood said. "That comes later. Right about the time you're let into the general population of Iron Heights, after it's made known to the other inmates how you like to sate your desires on young children."

Brick blinked. "What?" he gasped. "What the hell… that ain't true!" he protested angrily.

"Of course it isn't true." The Hood replied jovially. "That doesn't mean the inmates won't think it is. Do you know what they do to child abusers in prison, Mr. Brickwell? I hear it isn't pleasant."

"You think I'm going to jail?" Brick laughed. "I'm going to a hospital, and then I'm going home. The cops got nothin' on me!"

"Until they run ballistics on your gun. You know, the gun you always use, but are able to hide away when you're tipped off about being arrested? The gun that's back in your holster?" The Hood glared down at him- at least, Brick thought he was glaring. The hood threw his face into such deep shadow, he couldn't make out the face. "You have committed countless murders for nothing but your own amusement. You've destroyed families. You've caused untold damages to this city- and it ends tonight." The Hood reached down and grasped Brick by his coat, hauling him to his feet. Brick nearly passed out from the pain as he realized that both of his legs were broken. "And if you thought you could escape from the hospital; it will be a bit hard to run on two broken legs. And besides, there is no place you can hide that I won't find you. Remember that fear we were talking about?" Brick could make out the hints of a smile. "Now would be the time you start feeling it." With that, he shoved Brick off the edge of the roof.

The gangbanger screamed in fright as he fell to his death- but his scream of terror turned to a scream of pain as the wire around his ankle pulled taught. Brick swung in a wide arc, his head barely skimming the street below him…

On the roof, the Hood waited until Brick was halfway up on the back-swing before drawing an arrow and firing, severing the line. He watched in satisfaction as the gangster sailed up and forward- right into the window of the squad room of the SCPD. Under the hood, Malcolm smiled as he watched the police react to the man lying on their floor, and was pleased to see he was still moving. When he saw Quentin Lance and his partner look out the window and spot him, he gave the two cops a jaunty wave before firing a grappling arrow and escaping into the night.

* * *

Tommy Merlyn yawned tiredly as he walked into his apartment. It was just after midnight, and he had left Laurel's apartment only a short time before after having a meaningful talk (and being slightly embarrassed by his sister in the process- though he supposed her could get used to that). He tossed his coat onto a nearby chair and moved over to the bar to pour himself a drink. He pulled his tie off as he poured, tossing it onto the bar, then grabbed his glass and moved towards the sofa-

And screamed in fright as he finally saw the hooded figure sitting on his couch.

Malcolm reached over and switched on a lamp.

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Tommy sputtered. He was gripping his glass so hard he was almost afraid he'd break it. "What the hell are you doing here?! And why are you dressed like Ollie?"

"I got him, Tommy." He said hoarsely, and for the first time Tommy saw his father's eyes were red from crying. "I finally got him."

"Got who?" he asked cautiously.

"The man who killed your mother."

Tommy stared at his father in shock, then quickly down the drink, slammed the glass onto a nearby end table, and sat down on the chair, sitting on his sport coat in the process. "Okay, start from the top." He said.

"On the Watchtower, Mia gave me a file that detailed Rebecca's murder- and who killed her. This morning I asked Miss Smoak to track him down for me- a gang banger named Daniel Brickwell. Tonight, I found him." He stared at his son. "I wanted to kill him so… BADLY; but I made a promise to Mia. So while I took liberties in apprehending him, I turned him over to the police. As for the outfit," he gestured to himself, "I figured I may as well give Oliver an alibi when he returns. After all, why would anyone suspect him of being the Hood if the vigilante was around for months before he returned?" Malcolm cleared his throat, then made to stand. "Anyways, I thought you deserved to know…."

"Dad." Tommy reached out, placing a hand on Malcolm's arm. Malcolm looked back at his son, and Tommy sighed. "How about a drink?" he offered. An olive branch.

Malcolm smiled. "I'd like that." He said earnestly, sitting back down as Tommy rose to pour them both a drink.

* * *

 **Thursday**

At 10am on Thursday Malcolm, Tommy, and Joeph Falk were in the office smiling and shaking hands as Mayor Weisinger, Deputy Mayor Papp, several leading businessmen and women of Starling City arrived to hear Malcolm's presentation.

"Alderman Blood!" Malcolm said jovially, shaking the hand of the Glade's representative even as Tommy stiffened behind him. "I'm glad you could make it."

"And I'm surprised I was invited." Blood replied coolly with a small smile. "I hope you're not trying to pull me in to some nefarious plan for the Glades, Mr. Merlyn."

"Nefarious? No." Malcolm replied smoothly. "But I do have plans, and I look forward to your input on them." He looked at the others. "Ladies, gentlemen, if you'll join me at the table, I'll begin the presentation." The group gravitated towards the smart table that Malcolm had shown Joseph earlier in the week. "First, some introductions. This is, of course, my son Tommy, who has decided to take a role in the company." Tommy nodded politely; he knew most of the people here from various business dinners he had been forced to participate in. "And this is Joseph Falk, the man whom I've picked to head up this project."

"Yes, your mysterious new project." Wendy Mericle, head of Mericle Pharmaceuticals (and secretly a member of Tempest) said with a coy smile. "I must say the suspense is killing me."

"I certainly hope not." Tommy said under his breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the reason I asked you all to come here today is because our city is sick." Malcolm began. "Crime and poverty have always been a problem in Starling City. Years ago, my wife opened a free clinic in the Glades to help alleviate some of those symptoms. But the result was that some thug shot her and left her top bleed out in the street." He took a steadying breath. "That made me bitter, I admit. And for years afterwards, while I tried to help this city, I must confess I didn't do enough."

Several of the business people looked at each other warily. Every member of Tempest- save Moira Queen- was here, and they all knew exactly what he had planned. Did he honestly believe that wasn't going far enough?

"I had the ability to do more, but I never saw it. Not until my child showed me that I could." He smiled at Tommy, but they both knew he was talking about Mia. "I had the ability to do so much more, to help people rather than discard them; to build rather than destroy." He touched the table, and the display flared to life. A digital rendering of Starling City appeared on the screen. "Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, Alderman, I am proposing a three-stage project to help us restore this city to the glory it once held- to make it a safe, beautiful place to live in once again. The plan is simple- Restore, Rebuild, Rebrand." He tapped the table, and the subway lines were highlighted. "The first stage is to reopen the old Starling Subway system, and to drastically expand it. Right now unemployment is a major problem in the city, and it shouldn't be. There are jobs available- and qualified people who can fill them- but they can't get to the jobs because of a lack of public transportation. By reopening the Glades line, and expanding it first to downtown, then to the inner suburbs, we can move the people to where the jobs are instead of hiring people from outside the state, leaving out own citizens in the cold.

"The second stage is rebuilding. The combined business interests in this room control about 3/4ths of the property of the Glades, and about a third of the downtown area. As unemployment falls, crime should fall as well as those committing the crimes will have a viable alternative to make a living. As crime rates start to go down, properties in the Glades will suddenly look very attractive to businesses looking to start up or expand. We gentrify the Glades and the surrounding areas, attracting even more businesses to set up shop. And not just businesses- I'm also talking about low-rent housing, public areas, maybe even a convention center. Taking the city back to the time of our Grandfathers, really." He smiled.

"The third stage is rebranding, but that's something we'll have to have the people's input in. Giving our city a new identity, one that sets it apart from the hardships of the past thirty years."

Mayor Weisinger whistled. "That's a very ambitious plan, Malcolm. And I doubt it will be cheap. How are you looking to fund this?"

"There are several federal grants available for the infrastructure projects." Malcolm said. "A small tax increase would generate a small portion of the funds. But the largest portion I'm hoping will come from the businesses that will benefit from these improvements- including, but not limited to, the people in this room."

"What about Queen Consolidated?" Frank Chen asked. "As a large employer, would they be involved…"

"Moira had a family engagement and couldn't be here today." Malcolm replied smoothly. "But I've talked to her about this, and she is on board. I'm actually meeting with her and Walter tomorrow to hash out some of the details, and I will of course be willing to meet with each of you in turn. But for now, I'll let Mr. Falk run the numbers by for you…."

The meeting continued smoothly, with Falk, Tommy, and Malcolm all chiming in at various times to clarify a point or to make a statement. As the meeting wore down, Malcolm was happy to note that everyone seemed to be at least tentatively accepting of his proposal. As the meeting wrapped up, though it was Sebastian Blood that spoke.

"You're really serious about all of this?" he asked skeptically.

"While I'm sure I'm known in some circles for my outrageous sense of humor Alderman Blood, I assure you that I wouldn't waste the time of everyone here- myself included- on a prank." He looked the man in the eyes. It took all of his training not to snap the man's neck. "There were times when I wanted nothing more than to wipe the Glades off of the map and start over." He admitted. "But that won't solve the problem; in fact, it would only make it worse. We," he gestured to the men and women around the room, "captains of industry have the means, and the responsibility, to make this city great again. But we can't do that without your support." He stepped up to the man. "Your word holds great weight with the people of the Glades. You can help us spread our message, and you can help us get the people behind this." He held out his hand. "I'm trying to save this city, Mr. Blood. Will you help me?"

Blood considered him for a moment, then shook his hand. "We have a lot of work to do." He said.

Malcolm grinned. "I agree. Then let's get to work."

* * *

Malcolm had gone back to Felicity and asked her to find one more person. This time she had been only too happy to help, especially when he told her who he was looking for.

"Feel free to tell her 'hi' from me. Pointedly. And by pointedly, I mean feel free to shoot her. Non-fatally, though. But an arrow in the ass wouldn't be a bad thing."

And so he found himself perched in the rafters of an old warehouse as he watched Helena Bertinelli pin more photographs onto the bulletin board. This time he was dressed in his full League of Assassins gear, and having decided he had done enough watching, he withdrew a black arrow, nocked it in his bow, and sent it flying. It hit the picture of Frank Bertinelli dead center, startling Helena as she scrambled away from the board and struggled to draw her gun.

Helena had been considering the picture of her father when the black arrow had struck the board. Shocked, she scrambled back and hastily tugged the gun from her waistband- only to stare in horror at the figure that leapt down from the ceiling. He (she assumed it was a he with that build) was clad in black leather armor of some kind, his face obscured by a full face mask and hood. And to her astonishment, he appeared to be armed only with a sword that was sheathed at his side, along with the compound bow that was pointed directly at her.

"Helena Bertinelli." Malcolm said, his voice distorted by a voice changer. "Your angel of death awaits."

"I don't think so." She snarled, firing three shots at the archer. To her amazement, the figure dodged all three.

"You have your mother's eyes." Malcolm said, dodging another two shots. "And your father's aim." Tired of the game, he shot an arrow that quickly disarmed her. He then dropped his bow and motioned for her to attack.

Enraged, Helena leapt forward with a snarl and engaged the archer. She was a gifted fighter- almost a prodigy, her teachers had told her on more than one occasion. But as she exchanged blows with the masked man, she began to realize that however good she was, this man was leagues beyond her. Her feelings were proven true when, apparently tired of sparring, the archer quickly sent Helena to the ground, writhing in pain. She gasped as she felt cold steel at her throat, and looking down she saw he had drawn his sword. "Go on." She spat. "Do it! Send me to my Michael!"

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. He would be saving a lot of people a _lot_ of grief if he did just that. But he made a promise to his daughter, and he wouldn't break it over some overly entitled mafia princess. "You have some skill," he admitted. "Some talent. But it is raw, undisciplined. You allow your anger to control your actions, and if you proceed with your mission like that, innocent people will die." He lifted his blade and stepped back. Tentatively, Helena got to her feet. "I understand why you wish to hurt your father. Your fiancé deserves justice."

Helena looked at him in confusion. "How…." She started. "Then why…"

"As I said, if you carry on as you are, innocent people will die. Why should your quest for justice cause innocent families pain?"

"There are no innocents!" Helena raged. "Not in my father's organization! Not in the triad!"

"And the people that will inevitably be caught in the crossfire?" Malcolm countered. He reached into his jacked and withdrew a folded slip of paper. He tossed it to her feet. "If you truly wish to visit justice upon your father, you need to hone your skills. And so I make you this offer. On that paper are a set of coordinates. Travel there. At the base of the mountain, you will find a rare blue flower. Pick one, and carry it up the path. If you are worthy, you will survive your journey and you will be given the opportunity to learn from the ones who taught me. They can hone you into a weapon that can bring justice upon those who deserve it. Only then can you truly be the huntress you seek to be."

Helena's eyes flickered to the paper, but she never fully took her eyes off of the archer. "What's the catch?" she asked. "That kind of training isn't free."

"No, it's not. In return, you will swear your loyalty to the Demon's Head; his will will be your own, his word will be law."

Helena scoffed. "A lifetime of servitude."

"A lifetime of delivering justice to those that deserve it. To aiding others like you who have lost everything to greed and corruption." He stared hard at the woman. "Or, you can remain here. You can continue on your quest as you are. And the moment you step outside to take out a target, I will kill you." His eyes seemed to blaze with righteous fury. "I will not have you running roughshod around this city. Live or die; make your choice."

Helena was frozen, her mind awhirl as she considered everything he had just said. After almost a full minute, she slowly knelt down, feeling for the paper. For a second she took her eyes off of him, finally locating the strip of paper-

But when she looked up, the archer was gone.

 **To Be Continued**


	2. My Name Is John Diggle

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters in this story are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **My name is John Diggle.**

 **For years I served my country in the armed services, only to come home and be relegated to babysitting trust fund brats with my brother.**

 **And then my brother was killed.**

 **I always thought he died protecting a client, but now I know the truth. Now I know and organization called H.I.V.E. hired a hitman to take him out. And now I know there is a man coming home to fight his own war, a man who can help me find justice for my brother. But if I am going to help that man, I must become someone else. I must become something else….**

* * *

 **Wednesday**

It was after 9 pm when John Diggle walked into Big Belly Burger. The past several days had been full of introspection for the former soldier as he considered where his life had been and where it was, apparently, destined to go. But after five days of thinking and soul searching, there was one thing he still wasn't sure on. And that's what led him to the counter at his (former) sister-in-law's workplace that night.

Carly smiled as she put down a piece of pumpkin pie and a cup of coffee in front of him. "Looks like you could use it." She said with a smile.

"I sure could." He said, pouering some sugar into his coffee.

"Bad client?" she guessed.

Diggle shook his head. "Actually, I just got a job as head of security for the Queen family." He said. "No, I got a problem of a more…personal nature."

"Oh? What's that?" she asked.

Dig sighed. "I think I have a chance- a real chance- of getting back together with Lyla."

Carly looked surprised. "Really?" she asked.

Dig nodded. "I'm not saying it would happen right away, but I think we're both in a better place now. I think it could work." He sighed again.

"So what's the problem?" Carly asked.

"The problem," Dig said slowly, "Is that for years I've had feelings for another woman, and now I don't know if I should act on them or not. "

This time Carly sighed. "That is the conundrum."

"And you're the last person I should be dumping this on."

"Actually, I think I'm the best." Carly said, leaning against the counter. "John, I've known you had feelings for me for years. And I'll admit, I've had feelings for you, too." She said, surprising the man. "But I fell in love with your brother and married him, and I've never regretted that. I got six years of happy matrimony and a heck of a son out of it. But now here we are, both single, and we've still been dancing around each other." She shook her head even as she took his hand in hers. "I love you, John. And I think you love me. But it would never work between us because there would always be three people in this relationship. And we both deserve better than that."

Diggle closed his eyes and nodded. "I hope I can still be apart of your life, Carly."

Carly laughed lightly. "You will always be a part of my life, John. You're still my friend, and Andy Jr. still needs his uncle. Now," she straighten up. "Eat your pie. And enjoy it- that's the last piece you'll be getting from me." She froze when she realized the double entendre she had just said.

Dig laughed out loud. "I'll have to introduce you to another friend of mine." He said, thinking of Felicity. "I think you two would get along just fine."

"Shut up and eat your damn pie." She said with a smile.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied. He ate the pie, his heart a little lighter. _Now all I have to do is get back together with Lyla._ He thought. _Well, one thing at a time…._

 **To Be Continued…**


	3. My Name Is Tommy Merlyn

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters in this story are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **My name is Tommy Merlyn.**

 **For most of my life, my friend Oliver and I led a life full of alcohol and loose women, living one party to the next. For him, it was because he could. For me, it was to thumb my nose at a father who was never there; and to ignore the pain of the loss of my mother.**

 **But now I know the truth.**

 **Now I know that my father left me to become a cold-blooded killer. That he spent nearly two decades working with others to engineer the destruction of the Glades to avenge the death of my mother.**

 **That he engineered the sinking of the Queen's Gambit, which led to my best friend be sentenced to five years in hell.**

 **Soon though, he will be returning with a mission to save our city. And I intend to help him. But to do that, I can't be the spoiled party boy I've been for the past 20 years. To help my friend, and to save our city, I must become someone else.**

 **I must become something else…**

* * *

 **PRESENT**

When Tommy was returned to his time, he found himself in exactly the same place he had been when he was taken- sitting in his car. In fact, as the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, he continued to sit there long after the light turned green. It took a cop blasting his siren to jolt Tommy back mentally to the present. He gave a quick wave in his mirror to the cop and quickly pulled into the first shopping center he could find. The cop moved on, but Tommy turned his car off and sat back heavily in his seat, lost in thought.

After sitting in the parking lot, he had started his car again and began to drive around aimlessly. Finally, though, Tommy returned to his apartment a few hours later. He tossed his keys on the end table, and then just stood there looking around. He had lived in this apartment for over six years, but as he looked around, he saw nothing of himself here. No personal touches, no mementos, no family heirlooms. The most personal thing he kept in his apartment was a picture of his mother that sat next to his couch. Collapsing onto the couch, he gently picked up the picture and considered his mother, as well as his life.

 **Tuesday**

It was with a renewed sense of purpose that Tommy found himself walking through the lobby of Merlyn Global Group Tuesday afternoon. He rode the executive elevator to the 39th floor where his father's business office was, and smiled as he exited the elevator and saw his father's longtime assistant.

"Well Tommy Merlyn, as I live and breathe." Gloria Haverschmidt said.

"Hey Mrs. Haverschmidt." Tommy said, embracing the woman with a warm hug. She was the one who had bought almost all of his birthday and Christmas gifts over the past two decades, as well as having picked him up every time he had acted out in school. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Flatterer." Gloria admonished happily. "What brings you by today? Not another scandal I hope."

Tommy gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "No, I'm trying to leave that behind me now."

"Well, good."

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to my father, if he's free?" he asked.

"He's in a meeting right now, but he should be free in a few minutes." She said.

"I can wait." he assured her. They chatted for a few minutes until the door finally opened.

"Then until Thursday." Malcolm smiled at the man as he left the office, but his smile widened as Tommy appeared at the door. "Tommy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tommy smiled warily at his father. "Actually, I'm here to talk to you about a job." He said, looking back at the man who was leaving. "Who was that? He looks familiar…."

"Some business I planned to tell everyone about on Friday." He replied, leading him into the office. "So, a job?"

"I've been thinking," Tommy began, pacing aimlessly around the office. "About the kind of man I am, about the kind of man I want to be. I saw that me, in those memories…" he smiled. "I liked that Tommy. That's the kind of person I could be proud of… the kind of person I want to be. It's time I stopped being the party boy, and high time I started taking some responsibility in my life. So I guess what I'm saying is, I want a job."

Malcolm smiled and embraced his son. "There will always be a place for you here, Tommy. Come, I want to show you something." He led Tommy towards the table.

"What's that?" he asked warily.

"My new undertaking." Malcolm replied. "One your mother would be proud of."

* * *

Tommy spent the day with his father, learning about his new plan and finding his place in the company. By nightfall, he made a quick stop before heading over to Laurel's apartment to have an overdue discussion. He paused outside her door, trying to order his thoughts when suddenly another person walked up next to him and knocked on the door. He turned and looked incredulously at the pizza delivery man just as Laurel opened the door.

"Technically I did get here like 10 seconds before this guy." Tommy joked.

Laurel smiled, then handed the delivery boy a wad of cash. "Keep the change." She said, taking the box from him. The boy left, and Tommy walked in after Laurel. "So, Tommy, what brings you by so late?" she asked.

"Well, I assumed, rightly, that you would be at home working tonight," he started, "And I also assumed that you might be hungry." He noted the box. "Also rightly."

"I don't know." Laurel held up the box. "This is a mushroom and olive pizza from Mario's."

Tommy made a show of wincing. "That is damn good pie."

Laurel put the box down on the table. "All right, what do you have to offer?"

Tommy held up the brown bag. "Spicy tuna on crispy rice from Toro's."

Laurel's eyes narrowed. "Ohh. Damn you, Merlyn." She grabbed the bag. She headed to get some plates, then turned and looked at Tommy. "I hope Sushi was all you had in mind."

"So do I, because there are things my young eyes don't need to see." Thea joked from the sofa.

"Oh." Tommy said in surprise. "What…."

"I was just working something out with Laurel." Thea said. "And now I'm leaving before you two start your sexy fun time."

"There will be no sexy fun time." Laurel protested.

"Well, let's not be hasty…" Tommy interjected.

"I'm gone." Thea said, hugging Laurel and then giving Tommy a kiss on the cheek. "Have fun!" she said, walking out the door.

"It's fun having a little sister, isn't it?" Laurel asked dryly.

"Oh, yeah." Tommy agreed, laughing lightly. Laurel joined him in the laughter.

"So," she began. "I expected you to call a few days ago."

"I needed to get my head into the right place."

"Out of your ass?" she joked.

Tommy chuckled. "That sound about right. Actually, I was thinking about my life. You know, I looked around my apartment, and the only personal thing I found in it was a picture of my mother?" he started. "I've been living my life in a sort of fugue state, I think. Living from one party to the next; one girl to the next. And looking around my apartment, I realized it was an apt description of my life- empty. And that's not the kind of life I want anymore."

"What kind of life do you want?" she asked.

"I want to be the Tommy we saw in those memories." He stated. "The kind of man who takes responsibility, who has initiative. Who actually DOES something, instead of letting things happen around him." He took her hands. "The kind of man who would be worthy of you."

Laurel smiled. "All you ever had to do to be worthy of me was grow up a little." She told him.

"I talked to my father today, got a job at Merlyn Global. He's got big plans now." Tommy said.

"Please tell me those plans don't involve earthquakes or archers."

Timmy laughed. "That's kind of why I went there. I figured if I got a job working with him, I could keep an eye on him. And no," he assured her, "There are not earthquakes or archers involved. At least, not until Ollie gets back. He promised me he'll explain everything to everyone at the meeting on Friday."

"Well, I'm glad you'll be able to keep an eye on him." Laurel admitted. "And I'm proud that you're growing up."

"Yeah? How proud?" he asked with a smile, leaning in for a kiss…

"Nope! Not looking!" The two broke apart to see Thea walking back into the apartment, one hand covering her eyes. She staggered towards the dining room table, groping in the air dramatically. "I don't want to see any of this."

"Then why did you come back?" Tommy asked. "And by the way, nothing is going on."

Thea removed her hand from her face, then picked her purse up from the table. "Forgot my purse." She explained. "Okay, I'm really leaving now." She assured them. "Don't do anything I haven't done already!"

"I hope that's everything!" Tommy shouted to Thea's laughing back as she ran back out of the apartment. Tommy and Laurel looked at one another, and then burst into laughter themselves.

"So, are we really gonna try this?" Laurel asked Tommy after a moment.

"Do, or do not. There is no try." He replied.

Laurel shook her head. "Seriously, how did I NOT know you were a closet dork?"

He laughed as he led her into the dining room, before heading into the kitchen for plates for their first dinner together.

 **To Be Continued**


	4. My Name Is The Lances

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters of the Green Arrow and the Justice League is owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **My name is Dinah Laurel Lance.**

 **When I was younger, I had my life all planned out. Go to law school, marry Oliver Queen, and take my place in high society. But then he was lost at sea- with my sister- and I spent the next five years angry at the world, even as I tried to save it.**

 **But now I know the hell they have both been through. And while my sister** _ **may**_ **be lost to us forever, Oliver will soon be returning on a mission to save this city. And to help him, I must become someone else. I must become something else….**

* * *

 **My name is Quentin Lance.**

 **Five years ago my youngest daughter was lost at sea with her older sister's boyfriend. Afterwards I crawled into a bottle and let my life dissolve into ruins.**

 **But then I learned that Sara was alive. And now I have a new lease on life. Now, I can't be the drunk I've been anymore. To help save this city from the corrupt, I must become someone else. I must become something else….**

* * *

The two Lances reappeared in Quentin's apartment, their earlier argument long forgotten. For several moments they just stared at one another as the weight of what they had gone through finally settled over them. Finally, Quentin moved into his kitchen and threw open the cupboard where he kept his alcohol and grabbed the first bottle he saw.

"Dad—" Laurel started, but froze when Lance unscrewed the cap of the bottle and started to pour it down the sink.

Lance looked back at his eldest daughter. "You gonna help we with this? This ain't the only bottle, I assure you." Laurel smiled and moved towards the cupboard.

Later that night Lance called the precinct and took a few days personal leave while Laurel hunted for AA meetings for him to attend. Finding one in the nicer part of the Glades, Laurel drove him down. She parked her car and walked with him to the door, but then paused. "Do you want me to come in with you, or…."

"Nah." Quentin said with a strained smile. "This step I have to take on my own."

Laurel hugged him. "Well, I'll be here when you're done." She promised. Lance nodded, then stepped through the door. She sighed and looked around, looking for a coffee shop where she could wait, but her eyes paused when she spied something else altogether.

 **WILDCAT GYM**

Laurel walked into the gym and looked around with interest. It was dingy, though it had an ambiance that would have felt at home in a Rocky movie. Several men, and a few women even, were scattered around the gym, working on old speed bags and lifting weights. A ring was set up in the center of the gym, and she watched as two figures danced around the ring. They were throwing some very stiff punches before one of the men lashed out with his foot, executing a perfect leg sweep.

"Tom!" a gruff voice yelled. Laurel looked over as an older man with silver haired stomped towards the ring. "How many times do I have to tell you that I won't have any of that flippy-kicky nonsense in my ring!"

Tom spat out his mouthguard and leaned against the ropes. "It's call MMA, Pops. It's the future of fighting."

"Not in my gym." Ted Grant growled. "We teach the sweet science here, boy. The kind of fighting that carried the greats for decades. Ali, Liston, Hollyfield, Forman…"

"You know that Rhonda Rousey makes more in 34 seconds than Mayweather makes in 34 minutes?" Tom said with a grin.

"It's not about the money! And don't talk to me about that punk; I'd wipe the floor with him." Ted turned and smiled apologetically at Laurel. "Sorry about my son; he's a bit rambunctious. So what can I do for you, counselor?"

"What makes you think I'm a lawyer?" she asked.

"You're one of those hot-shots from CNRI." He replied. "Probably the only lawyers in the world that anybody actually likes."

Laurel smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm not here on a case, or anything." She continued. "I was in the area and had some time to kill. Saw your gym so I thought I'd check it out."

"You like boxing?" Ted asked as he straightened out some equipment.

"Not a big fan, but my dad and I used to watch fights together on occasion. I even saw your retirement fight."

Ted chuckled. "Wasn't sure if you recognized me. But let's do this properly. Ted Grant." He said, holding out his hand.

"Laurel Lance." She replied, shaking his hand. Laurel looked around. "This is a nice place." She said

"Well, it's a bit old and worn down, kind of like me." Ted joked. "But also like me, it still gets the job done."

"Do you teach defense lessons here?" she asked.

"I teach you how to fight." Ted replied. "Self defense is all well and good, but my philosophy has always been if you can drop an attacker early, you won't have to worry about defense." he looked at her curiously. "Why? You looking to learn?"

"Well, a woman in my line of work tends to make enemies." Laurel said. "I think it may be to my benefit if I knew how to really defend myself."

Ted considered the woman before him or a few moments. "Well, if you got the commitment, then I got the time. I may even let my boy Tom teach you some of that flippy-kicky crap he likes so much."

"How much—"

"You do enough good for the community on your own to warrant a free pass, Miss Lance." Ted cut her off. "You keep doing right by these people, and I'll do right by you."

Once again the two shook hands. "When do we start?" she asked.

Ted smiled. "We just did."

* * *

 **SUNDAY**

On Sunday, the pair did the hardest thing that they would have to do.

They boarded a train for Central City.

After the two hour train ride, the pair headed downtown to the trendy lofts where Dinah Lance the elder had taken up residence. Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor to stall as long as possible, all too soon they found themselves in front of her door and ringing the bell. A moment later Dinah answered the door.

"Quentin!" She exclaimed in surprise. "Laurel! What-"

"Hi mom, mind if we come in?" Laurel asked, not waiting for an invitation as she marched into the loft.

"Dinah." Quentin said more diplomatically. "We have something we need to talk to you about."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I was just about to leave for a lecture." Dinah said, flustered.

"Well, you better get someone to cover for you." Laurel said shortly. Her mother's abandonment of her and her father had always been a sore spot for Laurel, and it was everything she could do to be in the same room with her right now."

Dinah scoffed. "Laurel, I can't just call in and have someone take over! I have responsibilities..."

"Well, you certainly know how to shirk them, so it shouldn't be a problem." Laurel spat.

"ENOUGH." Quentin said forcefully. God, it's only been a day and he could really use a drink. "Dinah, we know that you still think that Sara might be alive. The thing is, we not only know that she IS alive," Dinah gasped, "but we also have a message for you, from her. Now, would you please get someone to cover your damn class so we can show you this?"

Less than two minutes later Dinah was seated on her couch between Laurel and Quentin. Quentin pulled out his phone and pulled up the video, then held it up for the three of them to see. Dinah gasped when she saw a Sara that appeared to be decades older.

" _Hey mom, it's me! I know, I know… it's hard to believe, what with me looking as old as you look right now, but I really am Sara. The date is currently July 27, 2039, and I'm talking to you from on board the Justice League satellite." She panned the camera to show the massive window of the observatory, and the earth beyond. "I know! Trippy, right?" she turned the camera back to face herself. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I am alive. I'm relatively safe, and I'm content. And I'm talking both of myself now, and myself back then." She clarified. "I'm walking a different path in your present, mom. A lot different than the path I expected to take. And I don't know if I will ever see you again." She sniffed and wiped away the tears that were falling. "Any of you. And I know that hurts. Believe me, its hurts me, too. But I don't know if I will get the opportunity to see you again. And if I don't, I need you to know one thing." She looked intently at the screen. "It wasn't your fault, mom. I made the choice to get on that damn boat. I made the choice to fool around with my sister's boyfriend. And nothing you might have said would have made any difference. So please, stop blaming yourself._

" _I have to go know, mom. It's almost time to send everyone back. I hope that I do get to see you again one day, but if I don't, then I need you to do something for me. Don't try to find me. I already made Laurel and Dad promise, and guys- feel free to fill her in. She deserves to know, too._

" _I love you guys, always and forever."_

Dinah was crying by the end of the video. "she's alive!" she exclaimed. "My baby is alive!"

"I know, Dinah." Lance said, pulling her in for a hug. "I know."

"How?" She asked. "What..."

Laurel sighed, her earlier anger set aside. "That is a long story..."

* * *

 **TUESDAY**

Laurel spent the rest of the weekend with her father, giving him silent support as he fought to stay sober around all the newly re-acquired temptations. On Monday she went back to work, puting her notes in order for her next case while she put out feelers looking into Adam Hunt, before heading to Wildcat's Gym that evening for her first training session. Tuesday night found her alone in her apartment, working on the Morgan case and drinking a cup of coffee (she hadn't thrown out all of her wine, but she was determined not to drink unless it was a special occasion now). She set her cup down and rubbed her weary eyes, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was finally Tommy coming over, Laurel moved to the door and opened it-

To find Thea standing there.

"Hi!" she said in surprise.

"Hey." Thea replied tiredly. "You got a minute?"

"Sure." Laurel led her into the apartment. "Did you want some coffee? Or if you're hungry, I ordered pizza from Mario's; it should be here in a few minutes."

"I'm good." Thea said with a strained smile. "Actually, I needed to ask you a favor."

Laurel gestured to the seat across from her, and the two sat down. "What kind of favor?" she asked.

"Well, I'm cleaning myself up." Thea began. "I would have done that even if Mom and Walter hadn't grounded me. And I'm trying to start making up work in school. Mrs. Groth is willing to work with me to help bring my grades up without my mother's checkbook getting involved. But I need to do more than just make up work, and since I need community service to graduate anyways, she suggested that I start putting in those hours now. And I thought I could do that at CNRI."

Laurel was pleasantly surprised. "Well, we can certainly use the help. I'd be happy to put in a word for you." She patted her on the arm. "I'm proud of you, Thea."

"Wait until I pull myself out of the hole I dug with my grades, THEN be proud of me." Thea replied wryly.

"It's hard acknowledging you've made a mistake." Laurel replied. "And it's even harder asking for help. I'm proud you're taking the initiative." She sighed. "And I've been horribly unfair to you for the past five years."

"What?" Thea asked in surprise. "Laurel, no…"

"Yes." Laurel replied firmly. "I lost my sister in the most horrible way imaginable, but you lost your brother AND father. And your mother wasn't really there for you when you needed her. I should have been there for you, Thea. Maybe, if I had been, you wouldn't be…"

"So screwed up?" Thea supplied.

Laurel laughed lightly. "I was trying to put it delicately. But yes, maybe you wouldn't be so screwed up."

"We'll never know, Laurel." Thea said. "And the only thing we can do now is move forward, so that's what I'll do."

"And now I'll be there to help you." Laurel replied. There was a knock at the door. "Thank god, the pizza's here."

"Long day?" Thea asked.

"The longest. And I'm starving. She opened the door to see the pizza delivery guy standing there, right next to Tommy Merlyn.

"Technically I did get here like 10 seconds before this guy." Tommy joked.

* * *

 **Wednesday**

"Welcome back, Quentin." Lucas Hilton said as Lance walked into the squad room for the first time since the previous Friday. "You feeling okay? I can't remember the last time you took vacation."

"I needed to get my head back on straight." Lance said as he moved to his desk. He reached down and picked up his wastebasket, setting it onto of his desk. "Spent some time with Laurel, took care of a few personal problems." He opened the middle draw of his desk and withdrew a bottle of whiskey. With only a second's hesitation, he dropped the bottle unceremoniously into the waste basket.

His partner looked at him in surprise. "She finally got you to cut down the booze?"

"Nope, she helped convince me to go dry." Lance replied.

"About damn time." Hilton said with a smile.

"Yeah." Lance agreed, putting the basket back on the ground. "Should have known better than to argue with a lawyer."

"Lance." Quentin looked up to see Lieutenant Pike approaching.

"Yeah Lieutenant?" he asked.

Pike glanced down at the bottle in the wastebasket briefly before looking back up at Lance. "I need you to send a copy of your Mathis files to the D.A."

"He's not out, is he?" Lance said in alarm, remembering what had happened when he had escaped.

"No, but his lawyer is making noises again. Looking to get him into a minimum-security Country Club."

"The only place that sick fuck needs to go is a six-foot-deep hole." Hilton said darkly.

"Agreed." Pike said. "It won't come to anything, but the D.A. want's to cover all of their bases."

"I'll get right on it." Lance assured his CO.

"And Lance," the cop looked up from his desk, "It's good to see that bottle where it should be. You're one of our best detectives; I need you with a clear head when your out there."

"Thank you, Sir." Lance said. As Pike walked away, Hilton leaned over.

"Are we in an alternate reality or something? I could have sworn he just complimented you." He joked.

"Yeah." Lance chuckled, rising from his desk and walking towards the file cabinets. "It's an alternate Earth where the Lieutenant compliments me, I show up sober to crime scenes, and criminals just throw themselves at us to go to jail—" Lance was cut off as the window behind his desk shattered, and he jumped back as a large form flew over his desk before landing in a heap on the floor. Cops all around in the squad room drew their guns and held them on the bloodied form that was slowly starting to move. The figure- a man- tried to push himself up, but ended up flopping onto his back, groaning in pain. His suit coat slipped open, revealing—

"Gun!" Lance called out. He held his piece on the man as another cop rushed forward and wrenched the gun out of the holster.

"Holy shit!" the female cop exclaimed. She looked back at Lance, and he recognized her as McKenna Hall. "Sarge, this is Daniel Brickwell!"

Lance nodded as more cops rushed forward and slapped cuffs on him. He rushed back to his window, looking out at the street to try and see who had tossed the criminal through his window. Seeing no one his eyes flitted upwards, and he froze.

For standing on the roof of the building across the street from the precinct was the Hood.

Hilton joined him and gawked along with him as the Hood gave the two cops a jaunty wave before firing a grappling arrow and swinging out of sight into the night.

"Tell me you saw that." Hilton pleaded with his partner.

Lance sighed. "Looks like I picked the wrong day to stop drinking."

 **To Be Continued**


	5. My Name Is Felicity Smoak

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters in this story are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **My name is Felicity Smoak. Hi!**

 **My whole life I've worked hard to be the best, to rise upon where I came from. And while I've made mistakes, I like to think I did okay.**

 **I've always hoped that one day I could make a difference in people's recently, I learned how much a difference I** _ **will**_ **make. But if I'm going to help Oliver save this city, I need to be… someone else. I need to… be… oh crap, why did I decide to start working out again?**

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY**

She had bought the exercise dvd on a lark a few years ago. She had meant to watch it before- she really had!- but her busy work schedule never gave her enough time to do so. That, and her natural aversion to strenuous physical activity. But after seeing what she had seen, Felicity had decided it was high time for her to start working out. So there she sat on the floor, trying to work along with the man on the screen even as her mind drifted back to earlier in the week.

 **FLASHBACK**

 _When she returned, the first thing she did was download all the information she had stored in her phone's SD card onto her laptop, her desktop, and a portable hard drive. Then she sat down with a cup of Raman noodles and started going through it all._

 _Come Monday, she found herself back in her cubicle in Queen Consolidated. And for the first time since she started, she hated it. She hated the inane questions from corporate execs who didn't know how to turn their computers on, let alone how to fix the simplest of problems. She hated the few of her less-talented colleges that ran her down even as the begged her for help- and then took credit for her fixes. And she hated her supervisor, who was far less talented with a computer, but far more talented with playing politics- and who stole credit for her ideas every single day._

 _Actually, she had always hated Marv. That wasn't new._

 _The problem was, Felicity had just spent the past two weeks in her fantasy setting- a future space station!- hacking computes that she would help invent in a few decades (provided she didn't die earlier this time around), and watching herself do things that were so much more important than cleaning off Mark Fellows computer of the porn he was constantly downloading, or resetting the network when Andrew in accounting used his computer as a file-sharing server. By Tuesday afternoon, she was so frazzled that, when she was called up to the 40_ _th_ _floor, she wasn't exactly thinking straight._

 _Felicity took the elevator up, silently fuming to herself and thinking that Marv once again played politics and got her into trouble. Probably because she was getting better and making sure the credit for her wok went to herself, and not him. The elevator opened on the executive floor, and Felicity stalked off and headed towards Walter's office. Without knocking, she barged in and confronted the man, who was sitting behind his desk._

 _"I've got one question. Why am I being fired?" she demanded._

 _Walter looked up in bemusement. "Ms. Smoak, isn't it?" he clarified._

 _"Yes." She responded, and then pressed on. "And I am without a doubt the single most valuable member of your technical division. That's including my so-called 'supervisor'. Letting me go would be a major error for this company."_

 _"I agree, which is why you're not being fired." A voice said from behind her. Felicity turned and saw Moira Queen sitting in a chair, staring at her in amusement._

" _Oh." Felicity said. "Hi." She said after a moment._

" _Moira filled me in on what happened over the past two weeks." Walter began. "And while I find it… unbelievable," he fidgeted, "I did see the video you made with Thea. That coupled with how they suddenly appeared in the mansion…"_

" _I know it sounds crazy, but it's all true." Felicity assured him._

 _Walter cleared his throat. "Yes, well the truth is something I'm trying to get used to now." He said pointedly. This time Moira fidgeted._

" _Look, Mr. Steele," Felicity began hesitantly, "I know what Mrs. Queen kept from you. And I saw how you reacted the first time, and in that case I really couldn't blame you. But this time she told you everything before it all went to hell, so try and look at it from her point of view. Her husband- first husband, that is- got involved in something that spun out of control. When he tried to make things right, he was killed. And the man who had killed him- and her son, and Sara Lance, in her mind-made it clear to her that she would continue in his place, or else." She sighed. "She had Thea to worry about, and later on, you. And she knew that Malcolm had no qualms about killing her family. So yes, she lied to you. She hid this from you. But she only did it because she loves you, and she wanted to protect you."_

 _Walter looked at her with narrowed eyes, analyzing her even as Moira subtly wiped away a few tears. "I must say, I'm surprised to hear you defend Moira." He said after a moment. "She told me how she treated you in those… memories." He had a hard time saying the word- a part of him still didn't quite believe it._

" _Yeah, well… that Moira Queen wasn't my favorite person either." Felicity said bluntly. "But even when she was being a terrible person to me, she was doing it, again, to protect her daughter. So I can't really fault her for that." She turned back to Moira. "Please don't fire me."_

 _Moira chuckled. "Lord, Felicity. I have no interest in seeing you fired." She assured the hacker._

" _Indeed, it was something else entirely that I wanted to talk to you about." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "We are currently putting together a new applied sciences division, and I want you to head it."_

 _Felicity blinked. "What?"_

" _I should note that, while Moira did put in a word for you," he nodded towards his wife, "I did a fair amount of research on you myself." He lifted the file from his desk. "Ranked Second in the National Informative Technology Competition at age 19, Graduated from M.I.T. with a master's degree in Cyber Security and Computer Sciences. You were recruited by Robert straight out of college, and have done solid work since. Looking closer, I've noticed that a lot of work done by your direct supervisor seems to bear a striking resemblance to your own."_

 _Felicity sighed. "That's because he likes taking credit for my stuff." She said finally. "And he knows how to play politics. Which is something I just can't do, because- hello! I can't shut up!"_

 _Moira chuckled. "Felicity, we want to make you a deal." She began. "The Applied Sciences division won't be ready for another year and a half. And while we have our eyes on several key personnel, we won't truly start hiring for another 6 months. So while we get all of that in order, we'd like for you to continue in the IT department."_

" _Marvin Whitmore is a cunning politician, but he's proving to be a less-than-capable IT specialist." Walter continued. "And while it seems to me that we have several capable people in the department, I need help weeding out the ones who coast by on his favor."_

" _So… you want me to be a double agent?" Felicity hazarded._

" _Quite right." Walter confirmed. "In six months we'll pull you out so you can help us in hiring the staff for the Applied Sciences division. I will, of course, have a contract written up explaining all of this and guaranteeing your transition. I don't want you to think we'll use you to ferret out the incapable, just to turn around and fire you as well."_

" _I never thought that you would. I always thought very highly of you, sir. And that was before the memories."_

" _Thank you." Walter said with a smile._

" _So, I have to put up with inane tech questions and spy on my coworkers for six months; then afterwards I get to take over applied sciences." Felicity smiled. "Hopefully this time I won't have to blow it up!"_

 _Moira coughed lightly, trying to hide her amusement . "Yes, we'd appreciate that." Walter said dryly. "I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy working with you, Miss Smoak." He held out his hand._

" _I will, too." Felicity replied, shaking his hand. "Um, one question."_

" _Yes?"_

" _Where's the bathroom up here? I really got to go."_

 **PRESENT**

Felicity struggled mightily, and finally managed to finish her fifth sit-up. Cheering her small victory, she groaned as she clambered to her feet. She grabbed her water bottle and chugged- then nearly spit it up when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bottle down, she turned and opened the door without thinking-

And found herself staring at Malcolm Merlyn.

"You're not here to kill me, are you? Because if you are, I really wish you would have gotten here like twenty minutes ago."

 **To Be Continued…**


	6. My Name Is Thea Queen

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters of the Green Arrow and the Justice League is owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **My name is Thea Queen. Or perhaps it's Thea Merlyn.**

 **Over the past two weeks, I've learned things- about my family, about my friends, about MYSELF- things I've never known. I've learned things that I wish I HADN'T learned.**

 **I learned the man I thought was my father really wasn't, and the man who WAS my father had him murdered.**

 **I learned that my mother had worked with him for the past five years to bring devastation to this city, all while fearing for our lives.**

 **I've learned that my brother wasn't really dead, but had seen and experience horrors that had turned him from a carefree playboy into a stone-cold killer.**

 **And I learned that I had the potential to become a killer, too.**

 **Someone once said 'Once you let the darkness inside, it never comes out'. And that darkness is inside me now. But if I'm going to be there for my brother, for my family; if I'm going to keep an eye on my father to make sure he doesn't end up killing us all, I can't be the monster I became in the future. I need to become someone else, to become something else….**

 **Because I don't want to be her.**

* * *

The talk with Walter went about as well as you could expect.

For the first half he sat there dumbfounded as Moira and Thea explained what they had been doing for the past two weeks, starting from when they were brought into the future (that alone took about half an hour) all the way to when they were sent back. Moira even had Thea show Walter the video on her phone of her consent to having her mind wiped.

Moira then proceeded to tell Walter everything she had kept hidden over the years. She told him how Robert had once killed a man by accident, and in going to his friend Malcolm Merlyn for help he had been pulled into Malcolm's insane plans; she told him about Tempest, and what Malcolm eventually led them to agree to; she told him how Robert had confessed all of this to her, and she had begged him not to go through with it, to stop it. How it was her urging that sent Robert sailing towards China to raise the capital he needed to buy out Malcolm's interests in the Glades, and how they both thought that would be enough.

Then she told him what Malcolm had done to the Queen's Gambit. How he had insinuated to her months later that it hadn't been an accident, and how Queen Consolidated was still needed in the plan. How she had worked with Malcolm for five years, constantly fearing for her, Thea's, and Walter's safety if she failed to do what he asked. As Moira went on, Walter became more and more silent. When he was angry, Walter wasn't one to yell and scream profanities. A true Brit, he became more stoic and stiff, his posture ramrod straight, his eyes slightly narrowed. At this rate Thea wasn't sure he wouldn't blow up soon.

Moira finished by talking about what they had seen in the future, what Mia had told them all, and how Malcolm had ultimately come around and promised to make amends, if he could. "So on Friday everyone will be meeting here." She concluded. "To plan what we should do next."

"Everyone, including Malcolm." Walter replied. It was a statement, not a question.

"Well, yes—" she stopped when Walter abruptly stood and walked angrily out of the room. As she sat there silently crying, Thea got up and headed to the wet bar. She quickly poured two glasses of scotch, then headed back to the sofa and handed one of the glasses to her mother.

"You can officially ground me in a minute." Thea announced. "And anyways, this is the last time I'm taking a drink. But I think we both need it."

Moira gave a watery chuckle. "What was that toast Oliver said?"

Thea raised her glass. "Prochnost."

"Prochnost." Moira repeated. And they both drank.

* * *

 **MONDAY**

Monday morning found Thea back at school. Balliol Prep- or more commonly called Starling Academy- was a private school that all of Starling City's elite sent their children to. That proved to be a double edge sword, though. The school was the best funded, the best appointed, and had all of the latest and greatest things that any public school would be envious of. But the reason the school had all of that money was because parents routinely paid for their kids to advance each year, and it was almost expected that the school would get a new wing, or a new library, or a new pool when it was time for one of the wealthier students to graduate.

Thea always got a kick out of that. She used to be proud of the fact that it was her mother's checkbook that got her into Junior year. Now though, as she stood at her locker stuffing books into her bag, it shamed her.

"Yo, Thea!"

She turned to see her friend Morgan Hathaway, flanked as always by Blake Caine and Lacey Crowe. Thea gave them a tired smile, as she had a feeling she knew where this conversation would go. "Hey girls."

"So, we wanted to hit the Galleria tonight. There's a new boutique opening up; we can get some killer outfits for Friday—"

"Can't." Thea said, stuffing the last book into her bag and closing her locker. "My mom found my stash, so I'm grounded."

Morgan shrugged. "So?"

Thea sighed. "So I'm taking it seriously now. Plus, I'm getting tired of the party scene, aren't you?" she had to try, at least. "The drinking and the drugs, and the sex in the bathrooms…"

"I'll never get tired of the sex in the bathrooms." Lacey snickered.

"Well I am. I just… I want more out of my life, now. I'm giving up the party scene. I'm actually going to try and pass my classes."

"Why?" Blake asked. "That's what our parents are for."

"What's gotten into you, Queen?" Morgan demanded.

Thea stared at her 'friend'. "I'm making a change. Going straight edge, I guess you'd say."

"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do on Friday?" Morgan snarled.

"You mean 'How are we supposed to get into the Viper Room without you'?" Thea replied. "Oh, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Morgan made a dismissive sound. "I bet this straight edge crap doesn't last a week." She said, then looked back at the other girls. "Let's bounce."

Thea watched them saunter down the hall, then shook her head. "Good to know who my friends are." She muttered to herself.

By the time she made her way to her science class, she noticed her normal seat was taken by someone else. Morgan shot her a nasty look, but Thea just rolled her eyes. Two weeks ago, this would have been a devastating blow to her ego. But now, after seeing what she had seen and experiencing what she had experienced, it was nothing more than an annoyance. She spied an empty seat and walked over to it. "You mind if I sit here?" she asked the girl. She looked very familiar, with striking white hair…

"Why?" the girl replied, looking timidly up at Thea. "I mean hi! Um, did you want me to move?"

Thea chuckled. "Why don't we start with 'Hi, I'm Thea,' and then segue directly into me asking you for a favor. It doesn't involve moving, but it does involve hanging out with me for a while."

The girl looked at her in confusion. "But aren't you hanging out with Morgan?"

"I can't do both?"

"Not legally."

Thea laughed lightly. "Yeah, well… I'm trying a new, novel approach to school- namely actually trying to learn something. And Morgan seems to be against that, and so I find myself in the need for a new lab partner. I can't promise I won't drag your grade down, but I can promise I will try hard not to."

The girl gave her a timid smile. "Then I guess I got a partner." She held out her hand. "I'm Rose. Rose Maddison."

Thea swallowed her shock. She DID know this girl- she had just spent two weeks with her on a space station. Of course that Rose had been older, was missing an eye, and went by another last name. Forcing a smile, she shook the proffered hand. "Thea Queen."

The rest of the day continued without any other shocks, and as the class filed out of Mrs. Groth's English class, she lingered until she was the last student in the room. As the door closed, she hesitantly approached the desk. She had never really gotten along with Mrs. Groth- mostly because she never applied herself in class, never did the assigned work, and constantly mouthed off to her, secure in the knowledge that she would still go on to senior year. That meant this was about to be a very painful conversation.

"Uh, Mrs. Groth?" she started timidly. "May I have a moment?"

Mrs. Groth didn't look up from the papers she was grading. "Make it fast, Queen. Unlike some people, I have work to do."

Thea winced. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I know I didn't do the assignment—"

"Not an unusual state of affairs."

Thea winced. "And I know I haven't done… well, ANY of the assignments…."

"Is there a point to this introspection."

"Please, Mrs. Groth. I'm trying here." She pleaded. The teacher sighed and finally looked up at the girl. "I've been a shit student." Thea began. "And I can blame my dad and brother dying, or my mother not caring enough about me, or my own sense of entitlement. Bu the fact is I made the decision to coast through school on nothing more than my last name. But," she sighed. "I've had to face a lot of hard truths about myself recently. And I learned that I don't like who I've become. So now I'm going to try and be better, but I need help." She swallowed. "If there is any way I can make up at least some of the work I haven't done, or if there's a way to earn some extra credit, or something…."

Mrs. Groth considered the girl for a few moments, then turned back to her computer. She quickly pulled up a file and printed it out. "Do you know what this is?" she asked rhetorically. "This is a record of every assignment you've missed this year. I keep one of these sheets for every one of the students that feel they don't need to do the work. And every year I print these out and take them to Dean Douglas. And every year he ignores them, because each of these kid's parents buys him a new toy, or buys the school a new building. And it makes me sick." She said harshly. Thea fidgeted. "I've taught here for 7 years, and not once has one of you entitled students come to me and actually expressed a desire to learn. And up until this moment, you were no different." She handed Thea the sheet. "But if you are willing to make the effort to actually come to me and ask me for help, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. You have four months to start knocking thigs off of this list- in addition to doing the current work as well. If you have questions, I will be happy to answer them. If you are truly dedicated, I will ask one of my honors students to work with you after hours, **if** they are willing. And of course I will be here for you during school. As for extra credit," she thought for a moment. "Next year you are required to perform community service to graduate. Most students get around this in the usual fashion. But if you are serious, start looking for something to volunteer at. If you stick with it, I will give you extra credit for however much you work."

Thea sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mrs. Groth. I'm serious about trying, I promise."

"I think you are." The teacher replied. "Prove me right, Miss Queen."

* * *

 **TUESDAY**

Thea spent all of Monday night pouring through her books and working on her assignments. By Tuesday she had decided to take Mrs. Groth up on her offer for help from her honor's student.

She was sure Mrs. Groth was getting a measure of revenge for her previous attitude by assigning her to the Harris twins.

That night Thea had the driver take her to Laurel's apartment. Wearily she made her way to the third floor and knocked on her door. After a moment, Laurel opened the door.

"Hi!" Laurel said in surprise.

"Hey." Thea replied tiredly. "You got a minute?"

"Sure." Laurel led her into the apartment. "Did you want some coffee? Or if you're hungry, I ordered pizza from Mario's; it should be here in a few minutes."

"I'm good." Thea said with a strained smile. "Actually, I needed to ask you a favor."

 **To Be Continued….**

* * *

 **A/N:** fun fact- the teachers were named after teachers I had back in high school, though they never acted like that. And sorry for the dialogue between the girls, but A) I am not a teenage girl, and B) I haven't been a teenager in over15 years.

 **A/N 2:** Can anybody guess who the Harris twins are? They will be appearing in 'A Future Imperfect'.


	7. Interlude- Isabel Rochev

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters of the Green Arrow and the Justice League is owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **Interlude- The TSA and other woes of Isabel Rochev**

* * *

Isabel Rochev was NOT a happy woman as she waited in the customs line of Metropolis' Luthor Airport. The week had started off bad enough with a major cyber attack against Stellmoor International which, among other things, had wiped her access from every program, every building, and everything her job required her to use. Then she had gotten a call from her landlord telling her that her rent check had bounced. When she called the bank to demand answers, they told her that she had authorized transfers of almost every cent she had to various off shore accounts, where it had vanished. It had taken three days to convince the bank that she hadn't actually authorized those transfers and that she had been robbed.

And now, more to get her out of the main offices so she couldn't complain anymore, Stellmoor had sent Isabel back to the United States to see about some recent acquisitions in Metropolis. Isabel tapped her foot impatiently as the line slowly inched forward, and twenty minutes later she was in so foul a mood that her glare alone should have been able to melt steel. Finally the person in front of her was cleared, and Isabel moved up to the counter, glaring at the attendant as she slid her passport over the counter.

"Business or personal, Miss Rochev?" he asked as he inspected her passport.

"Business." Isabel replied shortly.

"Anything to declare?" the man asked.

"No." she ground out.

The man set the passport on a small scanner and scanned in her photo. In less than three seconds the phot was being scanned by facial recognition software- and a moment later the screen flashed with the message 'A.R.G.U.S. Security Alert'. The man frowned at his screen. "My computer's frozen." He lied calmly. "Can you hold on a sec? I'll be right back."

Isabel let out a huff of annoyance. As the attendant walked away she pulled out her phone to call ahead to the office to let them know she would be late. She dialed the number, but a moment later she got an automated message in reply.

'Your service has been disconnected due to lack of payment. Please contact your provider to update your payment options….'

Isabel looked down at her phone in shock. She had just paid the damn bill last week! How could this week get any worse…

"Down on the ground, down, down!" a guard yelled, drawing his weapon and running up to Isabel. He stood right behind her as other patrons screamed in fright and dropped to the ground, holding his gun almost flush against her head. "Put your hands on your head!" he ordered. "I said, hands on your head, lady. I will shoot you." He warned.

In shock, Isabel haltingly put her hands to her head. But as she made to turn around, she was taken down by another guard HARD. She laid there, dazed, as they gave her a thorough pat down and then put her in cuffs. As they hauled her back to her to her feet and led her away, only one thought managed to make it into her stunned brain.

'You had to ask…'

 **To Be Continued**


	8. Friday aka My Name Is Oliver Queen

**Disclaimer:** Arrow is owned by The CW, Berlanti Productions, and Warner Bros. Television. The characters of the Green Arrow and the Justice League is owned by DC Comics. I own nothing; I'm just playing in their universe.

 **Soundtrack:** Beast by Nico Vega, Oliver Queen Suite by Blake Neely

 **FRIDAY**

* * *

The first time Felicity's alarm went off, she hit the snooze. The same for the second and third. The fourth time, when she actually checked the time, she let out a curse and jumped out of bed. She grabbed a quick shower, dressed, then poured some coffee into a travel mug and grabbed a bagel before rushing out the door. Getting into her Mini-Cooper, she pulled out of her garage, headed down the alley and out onto the road. But today she wasn't rushing to get to Queen Consolidated, she was rushing to Queen Manor for the first meeting of the viewing party since they had returned.

Her route today took her through the Glades, past the old steel factory that Oliver Queen would eventually convert into a nightclub. She drove past the worst of the derelict buildings, the Rebecca Merlyn Clinic (which looked to be in rough shape), and she had to smile as she passed a group of teens, one of which was wearing a red hoodie. Eventually, she made her way out of the Glades, through the suburbs, and out into the Palisades where the large Manor houses lay. She slowed as she approached the gate to Queen Manor, but the gate opened of its own accord. She drove up the winding drive (why did rich people have such long driveways?) and pulled up next to a brand new Aston Martin DB9, whose owner was leaning against it.

"Smoaky!" Tommy Merlyn said with a smile. "Welcome to the big side of town!"

"Has Laurel ever talked to you about 'overcompensation'?" Felicity asked as she climbed out of her car. She eyed the Aston Martin. "Because if not, she really has to."

"Ha." Tommy replied. "I'll have you know this is the most understated car that I own."

"So she REALLY has to talk to you about overcompensation."

Before they could continue, the woman in question pulled up in her 1998 BMW M3, whose engine gave a pitiful sputter before shutting off.

"Laurel, you REALLY need to get a new car." Tommy said plaintively as she and her father climbed out of the vehicle. "Detective." He said in greeting.

"Merlyn." Lance replied shortly. He smiled at Felicity. "Miss Smoak."

"Detective." She replied with a smile.

"There is nothing wrong with my car, Tommy." Laurel argued. "And not everyone can afford to have a car for every day of the week."

"In my defense, it's only a car for every weekday. And you can afford to trade in that old clunker for a slightly newer clunker. Or—"

"Don't even say it." Laurel warned as she led the group to the front door. "You will NOT buy me a car!"

"Fine. You can HAVE one of mine!" Tommy declared. He smiled as the door opened. "Hey, Raisa!"

"Hello Mr. Thomas." The housekeeper said with a smile.

"Loose the 'Mister'. My father is the respectable one." Tommy joked, kissing the older woman on the cheek.

"Not according to what I hear." Raisa said crossly.

Tommy shrugged. "Yeah, well… respectable to the public."

"I hate having to agree with him, but Merlyn is right." Lance was telling his daughter. "That car's on its' last legs. Maybe it's time to look into getting a new one."

"I make a minimal salary working at a public legal defense office. And I have student loans. I don't have the money for a new car- especially when there's nothing wrong with mine!" Laurel shot back.

"It's so nice to be arguing about normal things, isn't it?" and amused Moira said as she and Walter walked into the foyer. They were followed by Dig.

Quentin chuckled. "Actually, it kind of is." He admitted.

"Hey!" Felicity said to Diggle, giving him a hug. "You beat us all here!"

"That because I'm now the head of security for the Queen family." He replied. "I think they wanted to ease me into having to babysit a guy who can disappear into the wind."

Walter shook the detective's hand, then moved to shake Tommy's. "And I hear you took a position at Merlyn Global." He said.

"Yeah. Figured it would be a good idea so I could keep an eye on the old man." He replied. "Plus, it was time I grew up."

"I must say Miss Smoak," Moira said to the hacker. "I had no idea you could work so fast."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Queen."

Moira smiled. "Well, I was reading the paper this morning, and I read a notice that the Vice President of Acquisitions at Stellmore International was detained by the TSA earlier this week. And, after she was repeatedly belligerent to the agents, was subsequently arrested." She shook her head. "The poor dear; I even heard that someone drained her bank accounts and maxed out her credit cards on- get this- condoms. Scandalous."

"Well, that IS some bad luck." Felicity said with a smirk.

"You are truly terrifying." Tommy remarked.

"I'm one bad mutha-" she pointed to Dig.

"Shut your mouth." He finished with a grin.

* * *

Upstairs in her room, Thea stood looking out of her window, deep in thought. And the more she thought, the more she realized that not only was this the best plan, it was the ONLY plan. The only way to make sure the future she saw never happened. She saw the last car pulling up, and sighed. Time to go.

She turned and headed to her door, pausing by the vanity to look into the mirror. "Who are you?" She asked her reflection quietly.

As usual, it didn't respond.

* * *

Further conversation was forestalled by a knock at the door. Raisa answered it, and found Malcolm Merlyn standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Merlyn." She said coolly.

"Raisa." Malcolm replied, more amused than insulted. He handed her his coat after she shut the door, then smiled at Walter.

"Hello Walter." He said, holding out his hand. "How's business?"

Walter regarded him with barely contained rage. "If you think I'll shake the hand of the man who had my friend murdered, you are sorely mistaken."

Malcolm dropped the hand, and his smile became slightly strained. "I see Moira filled you in."

"Yes, she did." He replied, moving into his personal space. "Now tell me what's to stop me from throttling you like you deserve?"

"Well, there's the fact that he's a highly trained international assassin." They all looked up to see Thea walking down the stairs. She gave Walter a tired smile. "We all have to work together on this, Walter. Please."

He looked at Thea for a moment. Then sighed. "Very well. Let's move into the parlor, shall we?" The group made their way into the parlor.

"Thank you." Malcolm said to Thea.

"Yeah, well…" she trailed off. "Let's get this show on the road." They entered the parlor, and Thea took a seat next to Felicity. Moira stood, but Malcolm held up a hand to stop her.

"Moira, if I may," he began, "I have a few things I'd like to say before we begin."

Moira considered the man a moment. "Very well."

"I know you don't trust me." He began. "With good reason. I've brought a lot of pain to most of you over the past several years, and I know apologies wouldn't even begin to make up for it. But I promised Mia that I would try to be a better man, and I've already started taking steps—"

"That include dressing like the hood and tossing a skell through the department window?" Lance cut in. "What the hell, Merlyn?"

Malcolm smiled thinly. "I was just getting to that. Over the past week, I've worked to mitigate several threats that Oliver dealt with when he first came home, and I addressed the biggest problem he had while I did it. First off, Joseph Falk- AKA The Savior."

"The train guy!" Felicity exclaimed. "The guy who…." She glanced at Thea, "… killed a bunch of people on the subway."

"What subway?" Thea asked. "We don't have a subway."

"We used to." Diggle said. "It was decommissioned years ago."

"I've working on a plan to recommission and expand it." Malcolm said. "I was able to convince Mr. Falk to help with that, and at the same time dissuade him from his particular path of vigilantism. As part of that plan, I've brought on Alderman Blood so that I may keep a closer eye on him. Also, and I think you might be interested in this, Mr. Diggle," Malcolm said, looking at Dig, "I've hired on Blackhawk Security to be the main security firm for Merlyn Global. I'm hoping that more… respectable work will mean that they won't go knocking over armored cars. Also, I can keep a close eye on Ted Gaynor and his group in case he does." He smiled. "Doveryay, no proveryay."

"Trust, but verify. Smart." Dig agreed.

"I've also dealt with Miss Bertinelli—"

"Christ, Merlyn! Don't admit you killed someone in front of a cop!" Lance exclaimed.

"I didn't kill her." Malcolm said coolly. "But I've sent her away to a place where she won't do anyone in this city any harm."

"Well, alright then." Lance said, settling back down.

"Now, onto the item you most want to discuss. Earlier this week I delivered Daniel Brickwell to you in the guise of the Hood. I did this for two reasons. The first is that, when you finish running ballistics against his weapon, you'll find it was used in a dozen unsolved murder cases- including the murder of Rebecca Merlyn." Moira gasped, and Lance swore softly to himself. "The second is rather obvious- in 8 months, Oliver will return and immediately become the prime suspect for being The Hood. However, if the Hood was shown to be active before he came home…"

"He won't be a suspect anymore." Tommy said with a smile.

"Pretty smart." Thea said.

"And finally, there is this." Malcolm set his briefcase on the table in front of Moira. "This is everything I have on Unidac, the Markov project… everything to deal with the Undertaking. The only thing I've kept is a master list of documents to make sure everything is accounted for. As for this- I'm giving it to you." He slid the case towards Moira. "And at the next meeting of Tempest, I'm going to suggest that you take over leadership of the group."

"Well, if there is no Undertaking—"

"There is one." Tommy said, surprising everyone. "We actually wanted to talk to you and Walter about it today." He went on to explain his dad's new plan to rebuild the city. "With Queen Consolidated on board, we'd have the majority of large business interests in Starling City, along with the Mayor, City Hall and…. Alderman Blood," he ground out with a grimace, which caused Thea to snort in amusement, "all working towards rebuilding the city."

"That last one really hurt, didn't it?" Laurel said in amusement.

"You have no idea." Tommy replied dryly.

"Back to Unidac," Malcolm said to Moira, "I'd actually recommend that Queen Consolidated purchase them when they come up for auction. That way, you can oversee the destruction of the devices and all of the research personally."

"We'll consider it." Walter said.

"Then, that's all I have." Malcolm said, taking a seat.

"In that case," Moira rose. "Now we have to decide about what to do with the information we've been given. Specifically, what we should do in regards to Oliver. I have to say, I'm of the mind to charter a boat to go to Lian Yu right now and pick him up."

"Yes, absolutely." Laurel agreed.

"No."

Everyone looked in surprise at Thea. "Sweetheart?" Moira asked uncertainly.

"Oliver got off the island." Thea reminded them all. "Hell, he was back in Starling City at one point. And we know he made it to Russia at one point."

"So…" Laurel said uncertainly.

"So, in the first place- we don't even know if he's ON the island right now." Thea explained. "He could be in Russia, or China, or… god knows where. And second- if he was off of the island, he chose to go back. Maybe there is a reason for that."

"So we stick to the timetable." Tommy said. "We know where he'll be in eight months; let's let him come home on his own terms. But once he's back, what do we tell him?"

"I'm guessing you'll say it's a bad idea to tell him everything." Laurel groused, crossing her arms.

"Absolutely." Tommy said. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you-"

"Then why not TELL HIM!" She exclaimed.

"Because it would do more harm than good." Malcolm said.

"Of course YOU would say that. When Oliver finds out what you did to the Gambit, he'll kill you." Laurel pointed out acidly.

"I'm well aware of that." Malcolm retorted sharply. "And when the time comes, I will not try and stop him. He's more than earned his justice. But believe it or not, I'm not worried about me; I'm worried about Oliver."

"And why would telling him the truth be such a bad thing?" Felicity asked.

"Because he took great pains in hiding his true nature from his family when he came home the first time." He explained. "And more than a convenient cover story, it was to make them happy. Thea, Moira, Tommy, Laurel- they didn't want to be reminded every day that he was a changed man. They didn't want to think about what he went through for five years. All they wanted was the 'Old Ollie' back, and he gave it to them. Because he felt that was what they wanted, and because he desperately didn't want them to see him as he is now." He looked to Laurel. "If we tell him everything we saw as soon as he gets back, he will panic. He will run. And he will get himself killed."

"So we tell him nothing?" Laurel asked.

"No, we don't tell him everything at once." He clarified. "We meter out the information; give it to him piece by piece." He looked to Felicity. "For starters, we need to make sure he meets you much sooner than he did, and that you become a bigger part in his life earlier."

"Me?" Felicity said in surprise. "Why me?"

"Because you have a humanizing effect on him." Malcolm explained. "When Oliver returns, he will be killing people. If we want him to stop, so that the police view him as less of a threat and more as a help, we need to talk him out of killing. I believe that you will be able to do that, along with Mr. Diggle."

"No offense, but the thing that stopped him from killing before was the fact that Tommy died, more than anything that me or Felicity did." Dig pointed out.

"Perhaps that started it, but you two helped to keep him on a non-lethal path. It stands to reason that you'll be able to do the same thing again."

"And maybe if I was less... antagonistic," Lance grimaced, "and if I acted better towards the Hood when he didn't drop bodies, maybe that will help, too."

"The sacrifice you make shall not be in vain, Detective." Tommy said with a smirk.

"Shut up, Merlyn." Lance growled.

"I can also try and help Oliver with his PTSD, though it will be a challenge." Diggle offered. "Usually though, you have to want to be helped for any help to work."

"It will be a start." Moira said with a smile.

* * *

The group spent the next few hours hashing out plans, approving or disapproving ideas, and generally getting things in order for the next 8 months. After several hours the meeting broke up, and everybody started leaving to get back to their normal lives. Malcolm was pulling on his coat when a voice caught him off guard.

"Malcolm, can I talk to you for a second?"

Malcolm turned and looked at Thea in surprise for a moment. "Of course you can." He said quickly. "I'm always available to you."

"Good." Thea said, then took a breath. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this week, trying to sort everything in my head. And one thing I keep coming back to is… I'm now the daughter of TWO billionaires. And eventually, that fact will get out."

Malcolm frowned. "If you're worried about your safety, I could speak to Mr. Diggle about increasing your protection detail." He offered.

"Actually… I was hoping that you'd train me."

Malcolm blinked. "I'm sorry?" he asked, nonplussed.

"I want you to train me how to fight." Thea repeated. "How to defend myself. How to handle myself if I get kidnapped by four goons with guns and held hostage in a church."

"How you handle that is sit there quietly and wait for myself or your brother to rescue you." He said sternly. He shook his head. "Thea, where is this coming from? Mia risked everything to change the future so that you wouldn't become her- and let's be honest, that's who you would become if I were to train you."

"I don't want to be her, Malcolm." Thea said harshly. "I will NEVER be her. Mia went into her training full of anger and resentment, and was trained by a Malcolm who was bitter and angry over his defeat by Oliver. They fed off of each other's anger, and it drove them both to ruin.

"And this isn't about wanting to put on a hood and shoot bad guys with arrows. This is about knowing how to defend myself and my family if something bad comes around." She took a deep breath. "Mia may have been right about a lot of things, but she was wrong about some things, too. She wanted to change the past and keep me in a bubble and expect that no harm would ever come to me. But I've seen my brother tortured. I've seen myself get kidnapped twice. I've watched as my mother was killed right in front of me. And I don't want to feel this pain again. I don't want to hurt. Or get hurt. Ever again. And you seem like someone who can teach me how not to."

Malcolm considered the girl carefully. "And if I were to say no?"

Thea shrugged. "Then I save the Lances a lot of grief and call up Nanda Parbat. Hire a certain bird to come train me."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Malcolm hissed. "You have no idea what kind of danger you'd put yourself in if you tried that! Or what kind of danger you'd put Miss Lance in! They would think that she was in contact with her family and kill her, then _them_ , then _**you**_!"

"Then I suppose you'd better say yes." Thea countered evenly.

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "What does your mother think of this idea?" he asked.

Thea shrugged nervously. "Better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission?" she tried.

Malcolm smirked. "Oh, no. You have to tell your mother about this." He considered for a moment. "You have two weeks to tell her, and I will be talking to her once you've said you have. Then, on February 1st, you will be at my Manor at 5 a.m. If you are late by so much as a minute, I will know you are not serious about this and all bets are off. But if you are willing to allow me to teach you as I was taught, if you are willing to put in the effort- then I will train you. But I warn you- it won't be easy, and I won't be kind to you, even if you are my daughter." He held out his hand.

Thea took it and gave it a firm shake. "Agreed."

Malcolm chuckled. "Good luck with your mother." He joked as he turned and walked out of the door, leaving Thea alone in the hall with her thoughts.

* * *

 **8 MONTHS LATER**

A figure ran through a dense forest, swinging from branches over fallen trees, jumping over other obstacles. Exiting the forest, the man scrambled up a sheer rock cliff face. As he reached the top, Oliver peered over the top of the cliff to the bay and spotted a small fishing vessel. Moving quickly, he ran across the top of the cliff and back slightly into the woods, where a small bundle of supplies lay wrapped in a cloth. Rapidly he withdrew his bow, and an arrow whose tip was covered in tar. Using a flint he lit the arrow head on fire, then nocked it, drew back on the string and took a moment to aim. Then he let the arrow fly-

Into a pre-made signal on the beach, which exploded into a ball of fire.

On the fishing boat, the two man crew notice the fireball and head towards shore to investigate. As they came onto the shore, they walked past a ragged looking mask on a post. It was half blue and half gold, and an arrow was stuck through the right eye hole.

Oliver fell to his knees in front of the two fisherman and slowly let down his hood. His face was filthy, his hair and beard matted with dirt and grime.

A short time later he was on the boat, bundled in a blanket, and one of the fisherman brought him some hot tea to warm him up.

 **My name is Oliver Queen.**

In Queen Manor, John Diggle walked up to Moira Queen and handed her the latest security plan, which she approved after a quick read-through.

 **For 5 years, I was stranded in hell with only one goal- survive.**

In Grant's Gym, Laurel Lance was wailing away on the punching bag. Finishing up, she stepped back and took a few deep breaths. Sensing someone behind her, she turned towards the door and saw her father standing there. Quentin Lance smiled at his daughter and held up the salad and water; an invitation. Laurel smiled and nodded, then headed towards her locker to change.

 **Now I will fulfill my father's dying wish- to use the list of names he left me and bring down those who are poisoning my city.**

At Queen Consolidated, Felicity Smoak was finishing arranging things on her new desk in her brand new office when the door opened. She smiled at Walter Steele as he walked in, personnel files in hand, and prepared to pick her new staff.

 **To do this, I must become someone else.**

At Merlyn Global Group, Malcolm was in his secret armory, sharpening his sword. Finishing, he put it back into its scabbard that hung on the belt of his uniform. He considered the uniform for a moment, before turning and looking at the picture of himself, Tommy, and Rebecca that sat prominently on the work table. He picked it up and ran his fingers gently over the picture of his wife, then looked up at the door as Tommy appeared. He looked at Malcolm questioningly, and Malcolm nodded silently in reply, setting the picture back down and heading out of the room, sealing the door before leaving with his son.

 **I must become something else.**

In Queen Manor, a room in the east wing had been converted into a gym. In the gym Thea Queen and Sin circled each other, escrima sticks in hand.

"Are you ready?" Thea asked, sizing up her opponent.

"Bring it, Princess. Lets' see what you got." Sin taunted with a smirk.

"With pleasure." Thea replied, then lunged forward.

 **To Be Continued in Sin: A Prequel to 'A Future Imperfect'**


	9. Announcement: Sin posted

Happy Lent!

In honor of Deadpool kicking all kinds of ass (go see that movie right now!), I've posted the last Prequel for A Future Imperfect- Sin: A Prequel to 'A Future Imperfect'.

No idea on when I'll be posting AFI, as I have yet to write it. Too busy working to get money for Heroes & Villains: Chicago.

-Naitch03


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